Luke Castellan: The Boy That Will Never Come Home
by PJOforlifeFairyTailFan
Summary: "She was baking- baking cookies for the boy that will never come home." -Perseus Jackson.


**Hi guys! This is just a little story based on Percy's quote: "Baking cookies for the boy that will never come home." This is a rewrite of my first fanfic, dedicated to DogsAreAwesome(now TheLookin'Glass). Something else I used to do:(::) (::) Cookies anyone? Enjoy!**

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 **Luke Castellan: The Boy That Will Never Come Home**

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My feet dragged behind me, leaving a trail of mud. The Titan War had ended. I was walking through Central Park, through the damp grass and dirt. A painting of a certain little 9 year old boy crafted by Rachel, the Oracle of Delphi, dangles in my hands. The sound of leaves rustling echoes in my head, and I think I almost heard a familiar voice. One of an old friend, comrade, maybe even lover. One of a 14 year old boy who had just ran away. A flash of blonde hair, a glimpse of blue eyes. Beside me, a bush's leaves move, and when I look down, I am no longer wearing my usual silver hunting parka, but worn up goth clothes. I am considerably shorter, and I feel... I feel like I've just run away from home. I feel like I had just lost my most precious treasure of a little brother. I am chasing a goat named Amaltheia. I feel alone and scared. But most of all, I feel...twelve.

I am no longer in New York. I hear the rustle of leaves again. _Monster._ Quick as lightning, I spin around. A boy about two years older than me jumps out of a shrub, holding a... Was that a golf club? I know who he is. My eyes soften at Luke, his eyes so full of fear and innocence. The pearls harden into orbs of rage, and I find myself half-expecting for them to turn a sickly shade of gold. It doesn't happen. I didn't realize I was deflecting a swing from a golf club until I heard the sound of it knocking it to the ground. His hair is frizzled up, his mouth contorted in to a grim frown. His skill is extraordinary, I realize, as he twists my wrist when I try to land a blow to his face. I realize this is how we first met. The corners of his lips twitch into a smirk, and I grin.

"The name's Luke Castellan. You?"

"Thalia Grace."

"Sweet," he responded.

"You running from monsters too?"

"Yeah, something like that." I smile. Suddenly I blurt out, "Actually, I'm kinda following one."

. . .

Amaltheia led us into a trap. Halcyon Green's house is a huge tomb, he himself is no use, mute as he is. Luke and his golf club were almost swallowed by black curtains. Gah, I really hate that goat.

. . .

My eyes soften as a little girl, about seven, struggles under Luke's grasp, glaring at him with striking, fiery storm gray eyes, messy blonde hair flattened to her forehead, viciously trying to whack Luke with her weapon: a hammer. She kicks, screams, and wails. Her aura bears the essence of intelligence, strength, bravery, innocence.

"Monster!" she wails. "Monster!"

She thinks Luke is a monster, but he isn't. She will think this once again in the future, except Luke was not a monster. He became a hero.

"Woah!" he says. When he asks her name, I whisper it under my breath. She is the gift of Athena, the lover of the most powerful demigod to had ever lived, the architect of Olympus, the bane of Arachne. Welcome to my life, _Annabeth._

 _. . ._

 _"_ No!" Luke screams, tears streaming down his face. "Thalia! I can't lose you! You're all I have! Don't leave me!"

"Luke... Sacrifices need to be made... Take care of Anna for when I'm gone, okay? Don't blame yourself."

"I could've saved you! I could've helped you!" Luke cries.

I felt the life drain out of me. The last words I hear are of a boy's voice, choked up, wailing and shrieking, the ground vibrating as he pounds his fists and screams to the sky, cursing to the gods.

 _I could've saved you._

 _I will avenge you._

 _I will never give up on you._

 _I'll take care of Anna._

 _I'll never betray you._

 _I'll never forget you._

 _I swear on the River Styx._

 _I love you._

 _. . ._

Is that him? No, it can't be. What happened to his face? Is he okay? Why is he crying? Why is he talking to himself?

"Please...don't make me... I love her..." he mutters. I can feel a strong presence, and suddenly Luke's hands are shaking, no longer his own, and I can see that he is trying to fight it.

"No...no...no..."

He reaches for a vile colored a sickly green. _Poison._ He promised he wouldn't betray me. Luke's hands inch towards the tree trunk. He injects the poison in, choking in tears. Luke collapses, sobbing. I want to tell him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault.

He speaks again to himself, to the voice in his head.

"You promised that if I came to your side, you would revive her to be with me forever. I'm no longer your ally, Kronos."

And then he breaks down again, and I have a feeling the voice in his head told him he had no choice.

. . .

Hovering above me are a pair of warm sea-green eyes, filled with worry and concern. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my beautiful Anna. He asks me my name. I answer. I am weary, I am about 15, almost 16. Annabeth jumps on me, crying for joy, muttering the words "I missed you" over and over again. I thought I had lost the closest thing I had to a sister as well.

The boy is Percy Jackson. He seems like a good match for Annabeth, though he is very, very stupid. Seaweed Brain, she calls him. He is a son of Poseidon. Another dangerous demigod of the Big Three that in the future will call me Pinecone Face. One question remains:

Where is Luke?

. . .

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to believe this is not Luke who is in front of me. This is just but a monster. But now I see that he has hurt Annie. He swore on the River Styx. He deserves to die.

I hit my first blow with my spear. I am reluctant, because once, long ago, this boy was my friend. I stab, but I am hurt, because this boy was my friend. I strike, and I am angry, because this boy was once my comrade. I push this boy off the cliff. And I am broken, because this boy was once Luke.

. . .

I see Luke. When he breathes his last breath, and his eyes flicker, I saw my Luke. My friend, my comrade.

"You were the hero in the end, Luke."

I saw my Luke die. And I feel nothing. I am missing something. I'm missing-

 _Love._

 _. . ._

I gasp, dazed. For some reason, I'm in Richmond, Virginia. As if under a spell, the painting flew out of my hands and into the air. My feet are moving faster than my body, and I'm stumbling and tripping, going at top speed. I chase after the painting again, and suddenly I am running past a huge green sign that says, "Welcome to Connecticut."

Making sure the painting is still in sight, I run through streets and allies, down hills and up hills, across highways until I see the sign that states, "Welcome to Westport." Down a street I halt to a stop, recognizing a familiar white house. On the door was the engraved word _Castellan._ Underneath was the Greek lettering. I just stare for a moment, memories flowing back like a tidal wave. The painting floats down into the clutches of my hand. I bring my clenched fist up to knock the door, because Luke always told me that his doorbell was broken.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

The sound was like the tick-tock of the clock timing Luke's last breath. The door swung open to the dazed and weary May Castellan.

"Thalia, oh darling. You've grown so much! How are you? How's little Annie doing? How is my beloved son Luke? Come on in! I've baked cookies for all of you!"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Castellan. Annabeth and I are doing fine."

"What about my son?" May croaked.

I hesitated. Instead of answering, I handed her the painting.

"This is for Luke Castellan: the boy that will never come home."

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 **R &R**

~ **PJOforlifeFairyTailFan**


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